


Look

by irlenolacroix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlenolacroix/pseuds/irlenolacroix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So much can go into a look.<br/>A simple meeting of two pairs of red eyes can have so much within it.<br/>Especially when one pair has been gone for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look

There’s so much that can go into a look.  
There’s a quick moment of recognition. At first you see only a body, then the face, then the eyes, and after that narrowing of perspective your vision goes out again and you see a full picture. After you figure out who you’re looking at you discover that they, too, are looking at you, and you find a way to react to this. A little turn of the head, perhaps of the body. You study them, see how they’ll react. And then they do, and you react to that, and a little pinball machine of visual reaction goes on until someone says something.  
But sometimes they don’t say anything, and they don’t need to.  
You shuffle your feet a little, seeming perplexed, but don’t look away. The other will turn their head a little before looking back at you. Neither of you smile. Neither of you know how you feel. It’s a tornado starting inside of you and you look back at their obscured eyes.  
What have you done, you say softly to yourself.  
The other simply shakes their head, an indication that they either aren’t sure or don’t want to talk about it. Their sunglasses come off and you can see their eyes.  
Another look.  
Another few seconds taken out of time.  
Time, it seems, is what got you into this mess on your hands.  
You haven’t seen those bright eyes for years, it seems. You’re not sure how long it has been. Time is malleable and soft and flawed and easy to bend. This is the one who taught you that. You begin to see them—him—again, now in the dimmed lighting of the room. You hadn’t noticed the surroundings and aren’t going to look away from him now to experience them.  
So much in a look.  
So much in these few seconds.  
Seconds torn from the fabric of time that has been stitched into his clothing that matches your blood and his eyes.  
You blink softly and look at those eyes and aren’t sure if they’ve gotten redder or if that’s the tint of the tears that fill your own.  
How long?  
He whispers back to you, too long.  
You feel your teeth on your lip and quickly move your mouth back to its half-open little gape.  
Why did you…  
I had to, he says. But it was too long. I’m sorry.  
You close your eyes for a half of a second and feel the hot tears on the cheeks whose color now matches theirs before opening your eyes again.  
Another look.  
Softer.  
Quieter.  
You don’t remember approaching him or him approaching you, but you know that you did. You’re closer now. His hand is in yours. Rough hands. Hands that can turn and twist time like the kinks in your thick hair. Hands that can divide time into miniscule little moments like the freckles dotting your face and body, moments that always seemed to whiz by before.  
Not now.  
You fucking idiot, you whisper to him.  
I know.  
He paints your lips with his.  
Seconds.  
Long, stretched-out seconds.  
You’re apart again.  
One more look.  
Love, agony, fear, gratefulness.  
So much passing in the space between two pairs of scarlet eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a brief little Davekat drabble to help cheer up my friend. I wrote this in approximately ten minutes so it's not my best. Thank you for reading!


End file.
